Sarum - Edward Rutherfurd [126]
“Advance.”
It was a brilliant and daring piece of generalship, and as he had calculated, it took Boudicca and her horde completely by surprise.
The long wall of Roman shields flashed as the line advanced, and the steady, rhythmic beat of the legions’ march pounded the ground. The native horde, suddenly aware of what was happening, tried to collect itself into some kind of order, but the Roman advance did not give them time; men and women, children and wagons were all in a sprawling, contorted mass. Out of this huge dark body, eruptions of movement began: streams of warriors, acting individually and under no direction, hurled thmselves valiantly at the Roman line, where they were methodically cut to pieces. The machine of the legions pressed on.
Porteus remained stationed with the cavalry, who were ordered to wait. He did so impatiently. At last, he thought, this was his chance to win distinction. He would perform deeds that would be reported even to Graccus in Rome.
“Let us charge,” he breathed, “we can crush them with a single blow.”
But the governor was in no hurry. He watched impassively as the legions did their work. It was not a valiant cavalry charge that would break the confidence of these rebels, but the steady, invincible wall of metal against which their brave warriors were breaking themselves like waves upon the shore. When their confidence wavered, then would be the time for the cavalry.
It was now as he waited that Porteus began to appreciate the crusty commander’s infallible instinct: by some sixth sense he knew exactly when the heaving mass of the horde in front of him had reached the critical point of panic, and it was only then that he gave a curt nod to the military tribune beside him who promptly shouted:
“Sound the charge.”
The entire Roman force, infantry and cavalry, surged forward at a run and Porteus found himself galloping over the hard ground towards Boudicca’s huge army.
The rebels were already running – not from any cowardice but because their lines were in total confusion. And as the small but compact force of Roman cavalry overtook them, the cavalrymen cut them down like grass. Porteus was conscious only of the thundering horses’ hoofs and the excitement of the chase: he hardly saw what he was doing as he hacked and slashed at the ragged figures streaming by; and he was surprised to see the figure of a boy of twelve, his shoulder cut wide open, fall from his own sword. Still he did not hesitate, for this was a battle to the death, but urged his horse forward into the throng of men, boys and women. To right and to left he cut, knowing that it was slaughter, and convinced it was necessary.
Finally he heard the order shouted:
“Cavalry, wheel back.” He was nearly at the line of wagons: he did not want to turn back. But again he heard it: “Turn back: regroup.” And reluctantly he joined the other riders, careering back to the bare ground where the governor was silently watching.
It was only when they regrouped that he saw what had happened. The cavalry charge had served its purpose well: they had driven the great horde into headlong flight, and if they had not turned back, they would have become entangled in the wagon train themselves. For everything had happened exactly as Suetonius had predicted. In turmoil, their warriors, hopelessly mixed up with defenceless women and children trying to escape from the terrible wall of metal that was rushing down upon them, had crashed into their own wall of wagons and been trapped by it. They fell over traces and wagon shafts, and were thrown to the ground by the terrified horses and oxen. The whole heaving mass became a riot of confusion; and the Roman line moved on, hacking and thrusting indiscriminately at the heap of bodies before it.
“Nothing for cavalry to do now,” Marcus muttered at his side. “We’d only be in the way.